


Angels Are Watching Over You

by Corporal_Catfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Pre Season/Series 01, Pre series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corporal_Catfish/pseuds/Corporal_Catfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel reflects on the boy he's been Charged with. Told from Castiel's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Are Watching Over You

“Don’t step on that fish, Castiel, big plans for that fish.”

This is what I remember being told by my big brother. That moment feels like it was eons ago. Many things have been subject to change since that moment, since that little fish on the shoreline. Thought now, in retrospect, I can easily weave together the chain of events that have led me here, to the room of the boy I was told I have been Charged with.

He is merely a child, an infant, only a few weeks out of his mother’s womb, yet there are so many routes which lay ahead of him. His future feels almost infinitesimal in comparison to the time I have lived. Minute, he would seem; meaningless among the vast universe around him.

Yet I am Charged with his care. I must protect this boy, I am told, and assure that his pre-chosen path is clear, free of any mortal danger.

Big plans for that fish.

I do not know why. I do not know what events will transpire in this boy’s life. I was not told, so I will not ask. I will do as my superiors have instructed and guard this boy, as important as he seems to be to whatever Plan doctrines the will of the Angels, my brothers, my sisters.

_“Big plans for that fish.”_

_“Yes, Brother.”_

_“Castiel?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“You have been assigned a Charge.”_

_“Brother?”_

_“Yes, Castiel. This is a privilege. A great honor, indeed.”_

_“Of course. Who is this Charge?”_

_“He is our Salvation. The Righteous Man our Father has Spoken about.”_

_“What must I do, Brother?”_

_“You must wait, Castiel, for he is not yet born. But he will be. So it has been Planned.”_

_“Yes, Brother…”_

My orders are clear. My course is resolute. Our paths, this boy’s and mine, were intertwined from that moment on, and perhaps even before then. His destiny has been Set, and mine accordingly.

This road will not be an easy one, I have been told, but it is a road which I must go down. A road I must guide the Righteous Man down. He is my Charge, and I his Guardian.

I have been entrusted with an important task, one I do not plan on faulting.

The infant, my Charge, fusses in his crib. He cries out, a single, high-pitched call which interrupts my musings. I approach him gingerly, though I have no doubt that my presence will remain unnoticed, and loom over the tiny, swaddled creature. He is peering out, curious green eyes, it would seem, darting around at nothing in particular.

Such a small thing for a fate so large, I think.

His mother enters moments later, holding a blanket. Of course, the infant is probably feeling discomfort at the loss of his blanket. There are still many things about human ways which I do not understand, will probably never fully comprehend.

“Hush, baby,” she sooths as she approaches the crib, “Mama’s here. And I brought your blanket, nice and clean.” The woman smiles softly as she leans over her son, tucking the blanket around him. He coos happily in return before the noise turns into a yawn.

“I think that means it’s time for bed,” the woman tells her son. She reaches down and runs a gentle hand through the boy’s hair. A gesture of comfort, I reason. “Sleep tight, baby. Angels are watching over you.”

And then the woman is leaving, flicking the lights off on her way out and casting another soft smile over her shoulder at the crib. The only light source in the room is coming from a small light near the crib. Another subtle comfort, perhaps?

Humans find comfort in these small gestures, I have found. They associate light with happiness, and physical contact with contentment.

I find myself wondering if I could offer someone comfort the way this woman does for my Charge.

Physical contact cannot be risked, I reason, as I lean over the infant, whose sleepy, half-lidded eyes dart around as he clutches the tan fabric covering him. My presence, I have been instructed, must remain unnoticed for as long as possible.

For such a small, tired creature, this boy already holds such emotion and wonder in his eyes. If only the people around him could see the brightness of this reflected in his soul, as I do now.

Ah.

Comfort, I have also noticed, does not have to be of a strictly physical nature. And that is my thought process as I reach out and quietly caress the tiny, lustrous soul of the creature whose life and destiny I’ve been entrusted with, and it is just as warm as it looks, if not warmer.

The boy’s eyes stop flitting as he makes a happy sound, gripping the tan fabric of his blanket tighter with his tiny hands. For a fleeting moment I almost believe that he is looking directly at me.

But only for a moment.

If Angels were capable of emotion, I am fairly certain I would be feeling happiness.

As it stands, however, I simply return to my duty, watching over the infant who I am told will one day be our salvation. The Righteous Man. My Charge. My Destiny.

“Angels are watching over you,” I whisper to the dozing infant, “Dean Winchester.”


End file.
